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Most people looked at Scott’s job, his sport, his life and assumed his favourite season was winter. They were wrong.
He could see the logic. He lived and breathed hockey. But winter meant isolation and responsibility and being forced into the closet so tight he could barely breath. Christmas was fine but there was only so much weight a holiday could hold when he’d spent it alone for most of two decades.
Summer was Scott’s favourite season. By a mile.
He’d loved the feeling of being out on some random beach in Crete, holding the hips of a guy who had no idea who he was. Just knew there was immediate burning attraction. Now that Kip was in his life for good, Scott had learned to love his birthday again. Lying in bed at 10pm, holding his fiancé, listening to the fireworks. Birthday cake smearing both their faces. It was bliss.
Kip’s favourite season was winter.
He loved his birthday and Valentine’s Day and Christmas and any excuse to lie under a blanket with hot cocoa and snuggle.
That meant the excitement would begin September 1st.
“I found a leaf!”
Kip had indisputably found a leaf. It was crinkly and maroon into goldenrod, impressively huge. Scott looked up from his John Carpenter biography and scooted over to make room.
“Baby this leaf is so good. I should scrapbook it. What’d you think? Good enough quality?”
Scott was so lost in the chocolate brown of Kip’s eyes he barely heard the question. Instead, he planted a kiss on Kip’s cheeks. And forehead. And lips.
Kip let himself be distracted from his plan to kill summer officially for two minutes. But he then pulled away and fished into his messenger bag.
“I got PSLs!!! Scott I know you love a pumpkin spiced latte”
Yeah, he did. In mid October. September 1st Scott was still considering the homemade raspberry lemonade in the fridge.
It was the nice bit of the year. Where Kip was giddy with the promise of cold weather but neither of them were fully thrown back into the madness of hockey or academia just yet.
So Scott drank his pumpkin spice latte, watched Kip set up his watercolours and accepted that, for Kip at least, summer was officially over.